


A Little Less Conversation

by girl_wonder



Category: CW RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:40:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl_wonder/pseuds/girl_wonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The not-hooker hooker fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Less Conversation

The dog was part rottweiler. He knew that from looking at it. It growled at Cindy, and Jared shook his head.

"No way, sorry."

"The agency said it would be ok," the woman said, insistently. She looked at him like maybe he was retarded. "Did you hear me? The agency said you had to."

The dog barked harshly and when he got the new info card it had only said the dog was a spaniel. The coloring was close, but the shape was all wrong and Jared backed up, "Sorry, there's been a mistake."

That night, there was a voicemail and he called back to be certain.

"This dog is aggressive," he said. In the kitchen, Chad was playing catch the Cheerio with the last of Jared's cereal.

In his ear, the woman's voice was high and distant. "Look, it's for some big-shot producer. Take the dog or you're fired, Padalecki."

When he hung up, he said, "Man, stop eating my cereal."

"Man," Chad mimicked. "Stop working for douchebags."

*****

It happened suddenly: the dog bolted like he knew it would, only not for one of his dogs - for one across the street. He was sickly satisfied when it got hit; the dog shouldn't have been accepted by the agency, no matter who the client was. It was this close to hurting a human and he'd already had to muzzle it to keep it from snapping at the other dogs.

For a second, everything was chaos, the driver screaming, Jared trying to keep the other dogs together. Finally, he just called the agency. Animal Control had to come down and take care of the rottie, and the agency sent a van to take the rest of the dogs home. Jared didn't even wait to find out how the agency was going to serve him up on a platter for this one.

Instead, he just said, "I quit."

At home, Chad showed up at three in the morning with dollar bills stuffed into all of his pockets, too high to even notice that Jared wasn't asleep.

The next day, Jared managed a good impression of Chad, watching reality tv shows starring blonde girls and their blonde friends and their blonde boyfriends and lots of sun and sand that Jared hadn't seen in months.

Sometimes, he forgot that LA was so close to the ocean, that all he had to do was take the 534 bus down to Santa Monica and he could be walking on hot sand, watching the sun set over the ocean.

He waited a few days for his paycheck and when it didn't come, he called up the agency.

"We took your check to cover the cost of putting the dog down and compensating the dog's owners."

He paused a moment and it was just long enough for her to hang up on him, with a quiet, "Have a nice day."

Chad came in wearing tight jeans and a tighter shirt, the sleeves ripped off. He looked butch.

"I," Jared cleared his throat. "I can't make rent this month."

There was a mirror next to the door, the strippers who'd lived there before them had put it in and Chad stared at his reflection when he smeared his eyeliner with his thumb.

Eventually, "I spent my last few nights on weed. I can't cover you, man."

And that was that, Jared thought. "Fuck," he said.

"Yeah," Chad said. "Hey, listen, come to Mike's. It'll be an easy few bucks."

"That simple?" Jared said, his voice high and stressed. Sometimes he thought that things only worked out that easily for people like Chad, who had come to Hollywood to be a movie star and stayed to play in crappy porn movies.

Chad blinked, "Yeah, man, it kind of is."

*****

The shirt was too tight, almost awkwardly so, and pinched at his shoulders, making him look hulking and large. The seams itched at his skin, a harsh scratch that he hoped wouldn't leave him looking like he had a rash. Chad had rolled his eyes at the pants and said, "Man, you'll need to get better jeans."

But, the worn look was in style enough that Chad had lit up and declared it not entirely a lost cause, making him wear the pair that were almost white at the knees and had the tear on the thigh, just a hint of skin.

"Underwear?" Jared had asked, hunching over on the bed.

Chad handed him the bud and he took it, coughing harshly at the foreign smoke. "Sure," Chad said. "Now take a few more hits, relax and we'll head out."

Relaxing worked better at their apartment when Chad was just talking about how easy it was, how Jared might not even have to do anything other than let some kinky guy give him a blow job. Everything was easier when Chad explained it, though, even things like surfing or taxes.

After he rang the bell, Chad punched Jared's arm lightly. "Chill out, man, you look like you're about to be tortured. I thought you were an _actor_."

It worked, and Jared hated Chad for a second, but then he plastered his cheapest grin on and blinked lazily at Mike when he opened the door.

"Hey, Mike," Chad said. He jerked his thumb at Jared. "I got some fresh meat."

*****

The party was dark, tastefully lit so that everyone was forced to pay attention to the people in front of them and only got hints of the surroundings. Jared watched Chad, because Chad knew how to work these parties and because Chad had driven them here. If Chad disappeared, he was stuck at a party in the middle of the hills wearing a shirt that was too tight and jeans that were too low on his hips.

Licking his lips, Chad tweaked a nipple and traced his palm down his stomach. At home, Jared would have laughed because it was so artlessly sexy, so blatant about its intentions that it was almost absurd.

He was honestly a little startled when someone came up to Chad and whispered into his ear.

Grinning, Chad led the guy back into the dim hallways and Jared wished that the tour Mike had given had been more inclusive because he had no idea how this worked other than back rooms for sex and Mike's cut at the end of the night.

Someone tall and dark haired was watching him across the room, and Jared was used to his sexual encounters having a lot more lead up, like dinner and a movie, or conversation at least. But, rent was rent, and he liked sex.

Or he could act like he did, because Chad was right and maybe this was the end all be all of acting exercises. He thought that the Oscars would be a lot more entertaining if there was an award for Best Faked Interest.

Jared licked his lips and grinned, soft and sexy and then he tweaked his nipple.

*****

At the end of the night, he counted up the cash and found that he was half way there, almost all the way if he dug into his meager savings.

He still smelled like the party, alcohol and sex the musk on his skin.

Chad sat down next to him on the couch and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. "See? That wasn't too bad."

The way he said it was off, though and Jared knew for the first time that it wasn't the high that made Chad sound that wasted, it wasn't the beer.

With a light squeeze on Chad's shoulder, Jared said, "Nah. Better than dog shit."

*****

The audition was over almost before he started. He knew he'd lost them, knew it and felt himself deflate under their eyes.

At home, Chad was doing pushups, counting at the downs instead of the ups. When he finished, he sat back and asked, "How'd it go?"

"They didn't want me," Jared reached for the juice on the counter.

"You totally bombed it, didn't you?" Chad said. "Loser."

"Oh, fuck off," Jared said.

Chad laughed, breathlessly and started doing sit ups. "Party later?"

It was his third week without a job and since he couldn't walk dogs any more, he was limited to either serving food or selling clothes. The third option was always there, in Chad's grin, in his certainty that Jared would follow him back to dark parties and back room blowjobs.

"Yeah," Jared said, lips twisting.

*****

He hadn't ever really thought about what it meant to like both guys and girls until he got to Hollywood and learned that liking guys wasn't something that you necessarily had to put in a box and keep it there forever.

It also didn't relate to sex all the time either. Chad only dated girls, but only guys paid him for sex. He didn't seem to have any sort of crisis about it, even when his girlfriends did.

The next morning, Chad made coffee, thick black Folgers, and looked at Jared with a little smile.

"Mike wants to know if he should put you on the phone tree."

They were separated by the island, and Jared stirred sugar into his coffee, the spoon creating a small whirlpool in the center of his cup.

"Yeah," he said, eventually. "He should."

Mike was a nice enough guy, well built and he seemed like he was fun when he wasn't pimping out wannabe stars. When he wasn't hosting parties, he was on some WB show, the new one about Superman. Jared got the feeling that the only reason he still did this was because people expected him to.

He wasn't exactly like what Jared had pictured a pimp would be, someone violent and straight out of an episode of CSI. Mike was laid back about it, didn't care if his guys worked other parties, and when Jared had handed him his cut, he'd offered him a dime bag as a 'signing bonus.'

Finishing off his coffee, Chad grinned and said, "Great. This is going to be great."

*****

It was dark and he pushed in, his hands clutching at the guy's hips. A tattoo spiraled down the guy's back and Jared thought about getting a tattoo for a while, his mind flickering over images of what he could get, where he could get it.

Maybe something Japanese on his hip?

Later, he'd frown in the car, legs squashed up against the dashboard and he'd say, "I don't get it. It's not even like I'm giving them great sex."

Chad drove with one hand loosely holding the wheel, his other arm laid against the window. "It's not about the quality. They're paying for gay sex. Mike thinks it's something about paying being controlling, I don't know. You should ask him."

"You don't think about it?" Jared leaned back against the headrest, scratching idly at his chin.

"Not really," Chad said. "I get paid. Someone else gets off paying me to fuck 'em."

They were almost home, streetlights paling at dawn.

"You don't ever... do it the other way?" Jared asked.

Their bumper hit the cement marker with a painful scrape and Chad shut off the engine.

"Naw. Plenty of other guys who'd do it." Chad raised an eyebrow, "Man, you do _not_ want to get into that side of things. Trust me."

"Yeah," Jared nodded and opened his car door. "You're right."

*****

A few months later, he'd stopped actively looking for a job because working for Mike was easier. He got a call that there was a party, either at Mike's or somewhere else, he went to it and he sucked cock and fucked guys and things were pretty simple.

It wasn't better money, exactly, but it was different work, and it was easy to fall into. He wasn't standing on a corner on Sunset, and he wasn't starring in the next blockbuster movie, so it was easy to pretend that this wasn't that bad, this was transitory. He wasn't where he wanted to be, but he wasn't in an after school special, either.

They were working a party in a hotel and he wasn't getting any bites, not even a nibble from any of his regulars, when he licked his lip and looked up and there was Mike dragging some guy behind him.

"J," Mike grinned. "This is Jensen. He's in from Vancouver."

"Hi," Jared said. The guy's eyes glanced over him and Jared knew he was in. He'd been pumped up before he got to the party, knew that his acting was on tonight.

Mike disappeared to make sure that someone talked to so-and-so about a casting call and Jared leaned back against the wall so that he was more level with Jensen.

"J stand for anything?" Jensen asked, his eyes pausing at Jared's waist.

Leaning forward, Jared whispered against Jensen's ear. "I can't hear anything. Want to go somewhere more quiet?"

Jensen leaned back, and nodded, waving a room key. On his way out the door, Mike passed him a condom and Jared rolled his eyes. Mike was the original boy scout pimp.

Jensen's room was two floors down and Jared spent the elevator ride trying to make his distorted silver reflection look sexy. He also hoped that Jensen had enough cash on him, although he didn't seem like the type to short a hooker. If Jared were betting, he'd say that Jensen tipped waitresses and maids.

"So, you like LA?" Jared asked as the doors opened.

"I like Texas more," Jensen said. He walked with a confident stride and Jared loped beside him, not bothering to try to keep himself slow, not when Jensen wasn't looking at him like _that_ any more. Jensen opened the door with a smooth slide of the card and then walked in, heading for the minibar and opening it, leaving Jared to close the door behind him.

"Me, too," Jared said, and he thought that maybe all Jensen needed was a reminder, so he took the room in three steps and slid a hand over Jensen's back.

The thing with the actual sex was that Jared found most of the time it was easier than the build up. The flirtation, the making them want you. By the time that you were in a hotel room, everyone was pretty clear on what was happening and he'd never had to _work_ to get someone into it before.

Jensen wasn't an exception, he turned and grabbed Jared's neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Jensen kissed at an angle that couldn't possibly be comfortable for his neck, he kissed with both hands involved, and Jared grinned and didn't say, "Hey, woah, slow down," like he might have if this had been for real. He was getting paid for this - if it was over faster, that was ok with him.

*****

The next morning, Jared woke up obscenely late, tasting their sofa, and Chad was already awake in the kitchen, reading the Classifieds.

"Looking for a job?" Jared coughed and went to the sink, to gargle water.

"I think we should get a dog." Chad gestured to knee-height. "Something we can go jogging with."

"For real?" Jared shook his head and went to take a shower.

He heard their phone ring while he was in the shower and Chad shouted through the bathroom door, "Jared! Phone!"

"Take a fucking message, asshole!" Jared yelled back.

It was probably just his agent telling him that he was so sorry, but no one was biting. That type of message could wait until he was out of the shower.

He used Chad's body wash again and went to check for the message when he got out.

Their linoleum was disgusting, so he didn't feel bad about dripping on it as he stared at the note, Chad's messy writing below the reminder that they were both going to the free clinic for testing, making it seem even more weird.

 _Mike. Do you want to make 10 k 4 week? Guy from last night. Be back at hotel today._

"Do I have to call Mike back?" Jared asked.

On his back, finishing a set of reps, Chad said, "No. Thirty. Thirty-one."

He'd already made that decision, though, because that was enough to cover his rent for a few months, it was enough for food and electricity and if he was feeling really adventurous he might even be able to get a cell phone again. On his way out, checking to make sure he had a one for the bus, he said, "You going to go to the clinic?"

"Yeah," Chad finished his set and lay back. "Mommy's little boy, all grown up and meeting strange men in hotel rooms. I'm so proud."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," he paused, one hand on the door and frowned. "Fuck. Do you have lube?"

"No," Chad rolled up and started stretching his legs.

"I know you do," Jared said. "I'm out, and QueerBoy is out of my way."

"That is so gross man, you do not get to borrow my lube." Chad twisted his torso over his hips.

"You ate my left overs!" Jared pointed out. "Give me the goddamed lube, ass."

Mimicking his voice, Chad said, "Fine. Don't _ask_ me to prep your ass, though."

He stood and reached into his jeans where they hung off of the treadmill. As he handed over the bottle, he said, "But, dude, I do not _want_ that back, so mister ten k can just buy me some new lube."

The bus was crowded the whole ride and Jared wondered if he was sitting in the spot that some homeless guy had peed in.

He was in normal clothes, loose jeans worn at the cuff from where he walked on them and a normal shirt, but he was on a bus going to sell his ass and he suddenly got why Chad didn't have any real friends. Any friends not in the business.

California sun hit the ground and everything reflected back like movie magic. This was the part of the film where he got off the bus and went to a casting call, having realized that he should be acting instead of doing this.

He got off the bus in front of the hotel and went inside, using the courtesy phone to call Jensen's room.

"Hey," he said. Then he smiled, twisting his lips and thinking about something happy. He was sexy. He was happy to be here. It took him a just second to get into character. "You called?"

*****

Jared hung out in bed, grateful that he'd thought about the lube because you couldn't really trust johns to think of things like that. He watched the ceiling and listened to the low white noise of a shower in the next room. He wondered if Jensen wanted him to join him. Or whatever.

He hadn't really asked what the deal was.

Jensen didn't talk Hollywood, which was refreshing. The last time he'd stayed over somewhere, the guy had spent the whole morning pumping himself up, like he thought that Jared would be impressed with his credentials. Jared realized that things were more simple now: he was impressed with cash.

Everything was dollar signs now: this much for food, this much for water, this much to live in a city that doesn't want you.

Standing, Jared pulled on his boxers and opened the bathroom door. The curtain was opaque, obscuring Jensen's exactness, making him vague and transient.

"Hey," Jared said. "You want me to come back later?"

"Just a sec," Jensen gargled water and laughed. "Man, you know how to wake a guy up, don't you?"

"Just doing my job," Jared said, but low, he'd learned that more often than not, the whore wasn't supposed to allude to being one. It made johns uncomfortable, like they wanted to pretend that he was here because he wanted to be.

After living with Chad, Jared believed in simplicity. Paying for sex meant paying for sex, his job was to make sure that Jensen was happy. He leaned against the sink and watched the vague Jensen-shape move behind the curtain.

The tap shut off and Jensen reached for a towel, white and fluffy, standard hotel towels. He pulled back the curtain and looked briefly surprised to see Jared there, arms crossed.

"So," Jared said. He moved forward and put his hand over Jensen's where it kept the towel on his hips. Jensen was damp from the shower and his skin felt warm and rubbery to the touch. "You want me to come back after whatever you've done all day?"

Jensen was looking down and even though it'd taken a bit to get him interested before, he was more interested now. "I, uh, Mike said the whole week?"

"So, I'm staying," Jared said. He ran a finger up over Jensen's arm, poking where the muscle was thick and tense. "We going to eat?"

Jensen straightened and said, "Yeah, yeah. I have a meeting with my agent for dinner, but... you hungry for a late lunch?"

A few hours ago, Jared had been about to pass out on the couch, feeling drawn out and used, wishing he had the energy to shower. He knew that in a few hours when he pulled the cash out of his pants, he would feel a lot better, but Jensen didn't need to know that.

Leaning in a little bit, Jared said, "I could eat something."

Jensen laughed and stepped out around him. He laughed a little joyfully, like he was essentially happy that Jared was here with him and Jared didn't really get that. He was bought and paid for, wrapped in a bow, and he wasn't the gift that Jensen seemed to think he was.

"Let me shower," Jared said, pulling off the boxers.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Jensen was already backing out of the room and Jared rolled his eyes a little.

He turned on the shower and got under the spray quickly. It'd been a while since he had a nice shower, at home their shower head shot a sharp pressurized spray that felt like pins against his skin.

Jared used the hotel soap and brought it to his nose, it wasn't Dove, didn't have that artificial scent of clean. It smelled like something sweeter, not quite feminine. He scrubbed quickly, and used the last of the conditioner so that his hair didn't mat.

Back in the room, Jensen was reading a script printed on pale pink paper, the manila envelope torn open on the table. He dressed quickly and when he stood up, Jensen was staring at him, eyes crinkling in the corners.

"What do you feel like eating?"

"Whatever," Jared said. "You know any good places around here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Jensen grinned. He put down the script and said, "The last time I was here, I went to this great hot dog place. You aren't vegetarian, are you?"

For a second, Jared thought that Jensen was joking. The euphemism was right there. "No," he said, eventually.

"Ok," Jensen shrugged. "We can catch a cab downstairs."

Taking a cab in LA wasn't really unusual, but it was foreign to Jared who was used to buses and beat up cars and watching people pass him in limos. The place was really just a hole in the wall, set close enough to the beach that they could walk down to the sand, and Jared still had dreams about the ocean.

"You're from Texas?" He rolled the silver wrapper between his palms until it was a small ball, something he tossed easily into a well placed trash can.

"Yeah. Long time ago," Jensen said. "Came to Burbank first, to work on a soap."

Jared smiled sympathetically and watched the ocean. "Did you want to be a soap star?"

"Not really," Jensen grinned. "Wanted to act, but who does what they want?"

Softly, Jared snorted, and nodded. "Yeah. I know that."

"So, you..." Jensen was cut off by his cell phone, a bright ring that broke the illusion. He handed his half of a hot dog to Jared and had a brief conversation into the phone, ending with, "Yeah. Be there soon."

"Have to go?" Jared asked. He knew that it would give him a chance to go home and change. They passed a woman with a stroller and she smiled at them, bright and sunny and California and not suspicious.

People in Hollywood wore their suspicions under their skin.

"Yeah." Jensen took back his hot dog and glanced towards the street, uncertain. They hadn't seen a cab for a while.

"I know the number of a cab company," Jared said. "Want me to meet you back at the hotel later?"

"Yeah," Jensen nodded. "Later. What's the number?"

******

Jensen was reading a different script when Jared knocked on his door. He had it in one hand and grinned, pocketing the money he had in hand.

"Thought you were room service."

Jared grinned, "Well, I hope you got something good."

Shrugging, Jensen said, "I got hungry again. Hey could you do me a favor?"

In bed, a lot of people wanted a lot of really weird things and Jared didn't really blink at most of them. So, he grinned and leaned over, "Sure."

Jensen blinked back at him, eyes sharp and amused. Even if it seemed like he never got it, Jared suddenly realized that Jensen was the type who paid for sex. He was exactly the same type as the guy that Jared had screwed on a couch last week.

"Not that," Jensen said, finally. "Could you just read this?"

It was a scene and Jared took the script, when it became clear that Jensen had already memorized it. It felt different to be using his acting for something outside of a Mike party. He shook off the Sexy-Jared that he wore around himself most of the time now.

This other guy in the script was sarcastic and rolled his eyes a lot. There seemed to be a lot of direction for him to be 'impatient' and 'irritated'.

It was the sort of familiar irritation he felt most of the time around Chad. Love him, want him to die. Midway through he scene, room service arrived and Jensen handed over his tip before taking in the plate and showing off the burgers and fries to Jared.

Appropriately impressed, Jared snacked and they went back to reading. When he looked up, Jensen was acting with him, and paused, in the middle of a line.

"I don't know about this. My agent wants me to take it," he sat at the edge of the bed.

Jared shrugged, even though Jensen hadn't asked his opinion.

"Yeah," Jensen agreed, laying back on the bed.

Jared took that as his cue and it felt almost foreign to have forgotten that he was there for sex with a _john_. Chad would laugh his ass off.

*****

The next morning, a wakeup call rang at eight and when Jared was in the shower, Jensen left an envelope on the dresser counter.

"I have to go to an interview," he said and Jared didn't turn off the water to hear better. Instead he stuck his head under and made an agreeing sound when Jensen asked him to come back later.

At the door, Jared counted the bills carefully, and went to the bank to deposit them before going home.

*****

Chad thought that he was being asked to do something kinky.

"That kind of money, man."

"Naw. I think he's just bored," Jared said. He watched Chad roll a joint carefully.

"That's its own kind of kink," Chad said.

Reasonable answer. Jared waved off a hit. Their floor was covered in old food containers and he kicked at a McDonald's bag. "You went-"

"Oh, my _god_ ," Chad interrupted. "Yes, I went, who the fuck are you? My mother?"

Jared's lips twitched. "Dude, you treat your momma bad."

"Oh, yeah? Who stole my fucking lube, huh?" Chad rolled his eyes and tossed popcorn at Jared.

*****

Jensen really wasn't into kink. He wasn't exactly vanilla, but Jared also wasn't peeing on him in a bathtub. He sucked him off, against the hotel door as soon as they got inside, one hand running up Jensen's abs and reaching high to tweak a nipple.

Maybe instead of a tattoo, he should get a piercing, something through his nipple or tongue.

After, Jensen sighed and slid down the door until his knees were pulled up against his chest. He was still half wearing pants and Jared toyed with Jensen's hems. Jared was only half hard, kind of hoping that Jensen would fall asleep fast so that it could be the next morning already with plans and daylight.

At the touch under his chin, Jared leaned forward eagerly, letting Jensen kiss him, languid soft. "Tired?" Jared asked, against Jensen's lip.

"I was thinking about going out to a club," Jensen said, but then he nudged at Jared and got to his feet. Pulling up his pants, but not buttoning, he tugged on Jared's shirt. On the bed, Jared leaned down to kiss again and Jensen shook his head.

"I want to blow you," Jensen said.

*****

After the first night, he found out that a lot of guys just wanted to be blown, and some wanted to be fucked. The really weird ones wanted to be fucked while they were in women's clothing, or wanted to call him, "Daddy."

The first time someone had paid Jared to fuck him, he'd balked, and Chad hadn't said anything on the drive home. Then, the next day when Jared was in the shower, he'd been freaked out because Chad had opened the door and said, "Seriously, whatever you're thinking about right now. Think about it the next time some guy needs you hard to get him off. It's a job, man."

So he kept a head full of ideas when he was on the job. The girls in the apartment across the way, painting in tank tops and their sleep shorts, reaching up high to get a spot. Porn. A lot of porn. And, embarrassingly, this one time that he and Chad had kissed, messy and abusive in their living room after a night that they both had sold their mouths to other people.

*****

When Jensen said that, Jared closed his eyes and lay back, tugging Jensen down with him and said, "Yes." And, "Please."

He thought about all the things that he usually did when someone needed him hard. He thought about boobs and cocks and grinding in the dark.

And then Jensen started undressing him and he opened his eyes and frowned, watching Jensen study him, like he was art.

Jensen's hands on his skin were just this side of rough in an oh-so-right way and Jared almost laughed when he realized that what he was thinking about - what was making him hard was thinking about _Jensen's_ mouth on his cock, Jensen getting him off.

He ran his fingers through Jensen's hair and felt terrified at the reality of it. It had been a really long time since he wanted someone.

*****

The next day brought less meetings, and Jensen wanted to wander around West Hollywood, so Jared tagged along because otherwise he'd go home and think about what had happened.

If he went home, Chad would be just concerned enough to not let him go back.

It was sunny and palm trees hung above them, tall reminders that everything was fake in this town, even the landscaping.

Jensen grinned at everyone and opened the door to a coffee shop for Jared. It was awkward. The last time that he'd had non-Folgers coffee had been months ago, and the last time he'd been on a date, he'd paid.

*****

He didn't go home for the fourth or fifth day, he stayed in and watched tv and fucked Jensen as soon as he stepped into the room.

The hotel sheets were creamy and warm against his skin.

Jensen was warmer, and Jared let Jensen stick a finger in his ass when Jensen blew him.

The money was nice, the constant thrum of it, when he started to get bored with the constant sex. It was the longest he'd stayed in character, ever.

****

On the sixth day, he only woke up because Jensen nudged him over and then leaned down and started sucking his cock. Jared swallowed huge gulps of air, suddenly awake.

"Jesus," he said, laughing.

"Jensen." Jensen's morning grin was bright and Jared watched him work.

Vaguely, in the back of his head, he'd been wondering if Jensen had ever tried being a rent boy. He had the mouth for it, and from what Jared saw, he seemed to always be up for it.

When Jensen slipped one finger inside, Jared came, hard and fast, a bright light that had him gasping out wordless sounds.

He turned, easily, almost without thought when Jensen nudged him over and relaxed into the two fingers.

It had been building to this, he knew that from the way that Jensen was gasping against his shoulder. He stayed relaxed and hoped that it would be good for Jensen, knew that the money was worth taking it. If there was one thing Chad was right about, though, it was that it was different from this end, it was different with his forehead against a pillowcase and his hips being arranged at the right angle.

Jensen said, "Ready?" but he was already pushing in and Jared couldn't even bring himself to care. The burn, and the stretch and it had been a while since he'd had sex for fun, but it had been longer since he'd been fucked.

It was slow and then suddenly hard, Jensen's hips stuttering against his, his words just as choppy. Half whines and sounds, a chant of, "Jay, _Jay_ ," between.

He came, warm and solid inside and pulled out after a minute. Jared didn't watch him take off the condom, just rolled and stared at the ceiling.

The bed dipped when Jensen got up, going to the bathroom.

Over the water, he heard Jensen say, "You're fucking amazing."

He stood up and dressed. Naked to dressed in ten, as Chad would say. Dressed to naked in five.

From the bathroom, you couldn't quite see the door and so he didn't have to pass Jensen when he picked up his shoes and socks, closing the door quietly behind him.

He'd go home, Chad would tell him he was an idiot, he'd get over himself.

God. This business fucked with your head.

*****

On the day that he found out about Chad's results, Mike hand delivered the money.

Mike was wearing sunglasses and didn't take them off when he said, "Jensen wanted me to give this to you."

Jared took it. He wasn't stupid. "Listen, Mike. I can't..."

"Ok," Mike was already on his way down the hallway. "Let Chad know that there's a party tonight."

He'd had a whole speech planned out, one about how it wasn't right for him and he wouldn't and Mike couldn't make him. The blasé ending left him wanting.

He took the thick envelope back into their apartment and noticed the results for the first time. They were taped on the fridge like a finger painting that Chad was particularly proud of.

The 'X' was in red. It suggested a retesting. It suggested doctors.

Chad came in wearing work out pants and didn't look at it.

"Was that Mike?"

"Yeah," Jared stared at it and said, "Chad."

"Is there a party tonight?" He shook his hips in a low grind that was from backrooms all across LA.

Jared watched him and said, "You aren't going to _go._ "

Chad's smile was brutal. "Gotta make rent, dude."

*****

A few months later, Jared had moved on the way that he thought Chad would move on if he ever did. A few months later, he was working for a new dog place and walking different dogs.

Same shit, new neighborhood.

Chad wasn't sick yet, at least not like the doctors said he would get, but in a fit of what Jared thought was morbidity, he'd written a will giving Jared the power of attorney.

He was still thinking about how they were going to afford Chad's pills and their rent when the door opened and Jensen was standing there.

Jared blinked, and cleared his throat.

"You," Jensen paused. "Hey. You're the dog walker?"

Holding up the leashes as evidence, Jared said, "You've got a lab?"

Briefly, Jensen looked like he was going to say something like, 'The agency must have made a mistake' or 'it's ok, I'll find someone else'. Rolling his eyes, Jared prepared to say, 'sure' and 'no problem' and not 'fuck off and die, I can be good at sex _and_ walk dogs.'

Then, Jensen smiled and it was the morning sunshine smile again. "You want company?"

It hung there for a second, but really, Jared had never been who Jensen thought he was.

"No," he said, finally. "Thanks, though, they sometimes get hard to handle. You have a leash?"

******

end.


End file.
